


Desired Scent

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Older Lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie wants to test Doyle's skin.  Doyle is suspicious.  Paperwork is not done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desired Scent

“Here,” said Bodie, “give me your arm.”

Doyle looked up from the paperwork he had been working on. His glasses were perched low on his nose. “Why?”

“Just trust me and give me your arm.” Bodie was holding some sort of small bottle with a brush applicator.

“I am working, you know.” But Doyle obediently held out his arm. “Will sir be wanting a leg next?”

“Maybe.” Bodie turned Doyle’s arm so the wrist was exposed, then used the applicator to brush a small amount of liquid on Doyle’s wrist. “If you had finished your paperwork when—“

“Shut up. That was your fault too! And what the hell have you done to me?” Doyle pulled his arm back and looked suspiciously at his wrist.

“Sally and Julia showed it to me. It’s brilliant.” Bodie smiled a completely untrustworthy smile.

He couldn’t see whatever Bodie had put on his wrist; he couldn’t feel it. Doyle leaned closer, then sat up straight. “Bloody hell, that stinks!”

“It’ll fade.” Bodie’s smile was still in place. He set the bottle and applicator down on the table.

Twelve years as partners, the last two more in admin than the field, where Bodie’s high energy level was sometimes a problem, just as Cowley had predicted. Doyle really didn’t trust that smile. “I am finding an op to send you on. Far away.”

Bodie’s smile twisted, but only slightly. “Yeah. Don’t you wish, mate. But I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Lucky, lucky you.” Bodie leaned down and patted Doyle’s cheek. 

Doyle grabbed Bodie’s arm and pulled him down on top of him, scattering paperwork to the floor. “Life sentence, eh? What did I ever do to deserve that?” He eased back along the length of the sofa, holding tightly to Bodie.

“Saved my life,” Bodie said, nuzzling into Doyle’s neck as he took Doyle’s glasses off. And Doyle must have tensed because Bodie suddenly raised his head and looked him full in the eye. “Thank God. And you.”

Doyle looked at him, but there were no shadows in Bodie’s eyes,nothing to remind him of the difficulties of the year after the injury. There was no sign of the bitterness that had nearly broken him, and them. “Well, then. Let’s celebrate.” He kissed Bodie hard, and felt the immediate surge of response. He could cope with frustrated high energy. He enjoyed frustrated high energy. 

Doyle manoeuvred his hands under Bodie’s polo-neck, revelling in the warmth of his skin, and the familiarity. He’d almost lost this. Him. The fear ambushed him suddenly, as it hadn’t in more than a year. Gone. Lost to him forever. To have had none of _this_ —

Bodie must have felt something or perhaps—no surprise—he just read him as he would have on the street. He took Doyle’s mouth with a forcefulness that brooked no restraint, no doubt. Doyle gave himself up to Bodie’s care; his every sense filled with Bodie. His shirt was unbuttoned while Bodie’s tongue delighted him; his jeans pushed down while Bodie lavished attention on his nipples. He was hard and ready by the time Bodie’s hand found him, encouraging him to go even higher, right to the brink—

“Bodie!” The hand was suddenly gone, warmth retreating as Bodie sat up.

“Now, now, Ray, don’t want to come all over your paperwork, do you? What would--“

“Sod the bloody, fucking, paper—“ He pulled Bodie back down, kissed him, touched him exactly where he knew would most quickly drive Bodie out of his mind…join him the spiral ascent….

“Ray.” His name was nothing but a gasp of breath against his skin, but Doyle heard it. He hissed as his cock brushed against Bodie. So close. So…. He writhed, and Bodie’s hand was there, and he was coming, even as he felt Bodie jerk and drive against him. Bodie’s arms were tight around him, and he cared for nothing else in the world but that.

Bodie laughed in his ear. “Always knew you’d get off on paper—“

“Shut up.” He sat up slowly, pushing Bodie onto his side, back pressed against the back of the sofa. Bodie’s legs were still entangled with his own. Doyle looked at the spilled, crumpled paperwork. “Oh, Christ.” 

Bodie peered around him. “Ah. Well, tell ‘em we had a little— _big_ —something come up….”

“You’re a menace. Do you know that?”

“It’s in my job description.”

“Maniac.” He lay back down beside Bodie. “What was all this in aid of, anyway? What was that stuff?”

“Oh! Yeah, give me your wrist.” 

“Why?” Doyle moved his arm out of Bodie’s reach.

“Just…don’t…. Doyle!” They wrestled briefly, but Doyle let Bodie win in the end. 

“Yeah, okay. Can I breathe now?” Doyle pushed against Bodie’s weight.

“Should know better than to wrestle with me in close quarters by now.” Bodie eased off Doyle, but kept hold of his wrist. He sniffed Doyle’s skin.

“What the fuck are you—?”

“Hmmmm.” Bodie closed his eyes.

“Bodie….”

“Woody?” 

“Would he what?” Doyle narrowed his eyes and, after a moment, poked Bodie. “Wake up!”

Bodie opened his eyes. “I am awake. I’ve got to check—“ He twisted around, and Doyle saw he was trying to get his hand into the pocket of his trousers which were twined around his lower legs.

“Check what?”

“Ah-hah!” Bodie pulled out a slip of paper. Very crumpled paper. 

“What’s that?” Doyle reached for the paper.

Bodie fended him off. “Julia gave it to me. Let me check….” He looked at the paper. “Definitely not sweet… Hah, yes! ‘Woody’. That’s it!”

Doyle rolled his eyes. “That’s what? And if you don’t get on with it right now, I’m going for my gun.”

“Temper. I felt sure you’d be ‘Bitter-sharp’, but…” He read some more and grinned. “This will do nicely.” He waved the paper. “It’s your skin scent. ‘Woody, Conifer (piney) or too fresh scents tend to turn either dull or spiky (too sharp) on this skin type. Warm incense, oriental, spice and citrus—“

Doyle grabbed the paper from him. “You what? What the fuck is—?” He scanned the paper. “You’ve got to be…”

“It’s your natural scent. The thing that turns me on.”

Doyle snorted. “Don’t think that’s a scent, mate.” He read further. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Gourmand.” Bodie breathed.

“I am not going to let you put chocolate all over…”

Bodie grabbed hold of him, nuzzling and kissing. “But you’re made for it, mate. Says so, right there: ‘Gourmand scents can also be worn to good effect.’”

“Hell.”

“We’re going to have a feast, Ray.” 

Bodie’s hands were lighting him up again. “It had better be worth my while.” Bodie didn’t even bother to respond to that with words. Doyle felt some additional protest was necessary, for form’s sake. “What…what are you, then? Bodie? Bodie!” 

“Tell you later. I—“

Doyle grinned and snatched the paper up from where he’d let it fall. “Hmmm…’Creamy-sweet’? No, ‘ _Floral_ -sweet’, right? ‘Light, fresh florals, light fruit scents’—“

“The girls got it wrong. I’m sure they did.”

“Where’s that liquid stuff?” Doyle started to push up from the sofa, but Bodie grabbed him.

“Oi, we were in the middle—“

“Tell you what, mate. You take the test again, and I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden your Christmas chocolate.”

“Christmas is half a year away!”

“See? It needs eating, then, doesn’t it?” Doyle raised his eyebrows. He smiled. “It’s in the bedroom…”

“It’s coming out ‘Salty-musky’, got that?” Bodie manoeuvred them both off the sofa, and hauled Doyle towards the bedroom. 

Doyle grabbed the small bottle of liquid as they passed the table. “Oh, yeah. Hard man. But under that hard exterior….”

‘Floral-sweet’. Definitely.

END

_June 2012_

**Author's Note:**

> *Scent descriptions from the DSH Special Formula X directions.
> 
> Please blame Elizabeth O'Shea for this...


End file.
